One of several strange LPs recorded in California throughout modern history, Background Music covers the gamut with representations from the audio documentary, pop catastrophe, parody, computer new-wave, synth rock, electronic music and unwitting collaboration genres.

Cover art is a photo of The Shop roommate Brad Presentati's truck, of Oroville, CA origins.

2010 - 2014 https://archive.org/details/gtb001
2001 https://archive.org/details/gtb000
2002 https://archive.org/details/gtb002
2005 https://archive.org/details/gtb005
2006 https://archive.org/details/gtb006
2007 https://archive.org/details/gtb007
2008 https://archive.org/details/gtb008
2009 https://archive.org/details/gtb009
2010 https://archive.org/details/gtb010
2011 https://archive.org/details/gtb011
2015 https://archive.org/details/gtb015

2016 https://archive.org/details/gtb016 LITHIUM SUCKED THE LIFE OUT OF FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA'S BRAIN (TECHNO MIX)

I will have my drums pulled out in some far East jungle dream
I will have the ears folded over so that I can hear the sea
The process gets confused, my face gets replaced
The storm rolls through, I'm a machine version of you
I will have the cameras rolling as I run out of feelings

I will have the fluid drained from the inside of my skill
I will have the fluid sanity to fix my thinning pull
Grab on, Mrs., it's a ride, my foam is drawling homicide
Southern flavored, raise a fist, my newborn hand remains unkissed

LONDON GIRL

London girl, close your eyes, 'cause here's a storm you can't survive
London girl, twist your grin, your smile's a lemon confounder honey
'Cause when they made you baby they really broke the London bridge
'Cause when they made you baby they really got British pounded

London girl, change your voice, because your mind is not my choice
London girl, it's alright, you won't survive through the night
'Cause when they made you, baby, they really broke the London bridge
'Cause when they made you, baby, they really got British pounded

"BACKGROUND MUSIC" THEME SONG

When they're hiding in the bushes
When they build the gun you keep in your closet
When Thomas Curse starts an argument with the car, you've got problems

When they're jumbling the solvents
When they put your fingerprints on his drugs
When Nana says your life is hers to live, you've got problems

When they cigarette your moustache
When the arm they blow up is your balloon
When Darby says crash and you go "How fast?," you've got problems

When they disguise the disgust with a disgust disguise
When Albert Trofter runs his fist through the red light at your forehead-not forehead intersection, you've got problems
Albert Trofter, I made him up

WITH LOSS COMES REPLACEMENT (REMIX)

Thin Nanny gonna come to town
Gonna babysit your kids till your kids are found
Thin Nanny gonna make you think
Gonna come onto your husband and offer him a drink
When she's done, she'll go overboard
And ask your husband how can you afford me?
The thin nanny

Freedom fighter gonna fuck shit dead
Gonna cut your fuckin' husband and kick your head
Freedom fighter gonna make you laugh
Gonna tickle that shrapnel and put it in your path
When she's done, she'll go overboard
And blow up your house with an explosive sword
Freedom fighter

Dictator will apocalypse the calypso island's native's eyes
Dictator will not gyrate but rip off your legs and teach you to hate
When she's done, she'll go overboard
And make you motherfuckin' servant to her motherfuckin' Lord
The dictator

THE HIPPOCATHARTIC OATH

You should, you should take a walk my friend
You should take a little walk to complete the Christian mission to heal the little girls
To heal the little girls
To heal the little girls

They have, they have been always fighting
So you should make a little speech to declare the finish of the fighting
Finish of the fighting
Finish of the fighting

AGENT OLSON'S LAST DAY

Step out the car
Float in the air
Your gravity shoes do not care about gravity
Today you're not a slave to the ground
Work where the sky is found
The sky is your new employer
When you realize the sky is a beneficiary of nepotism, kill the sky
It is not such a fantastic guy
The sky is not eternal, it is internal
And the internal is a deep clock into clock's stop
Stop a cop
Step out of your bed
Fall out on the floor
The bed ain't on the ground no more
Today you are not a slave to societal expectations
You are incredibly intoxicated
So go outside and sing an incomprehensible song to your neighbor who is already very suspicious of you
She's a suspicious bitch, motherfucker

THE CATHEDRAL OF EROTIC DILLIGENCE

No one but me loves you honey
No one but me wants to fuck
No one but me needs you baby
No one but me gives you luck
No one but me wants to touch it
No one but me needs your love
No one but me wants to suck it
No one but me wants the shove

Lay the towel upon the bed
Don't want no jelly stains
When we're done we'll both go home
This hotel gives discounts to saints

IMPROVEMENT ON "PIG LIB"

WASP children exasperate their fathers
The want to have the dialogue explicated
WASP children are intelligent
They generally lack the social maturity
Of a less intelligent child of a similar age
I call 'em white anglo saxon prisoners

WASP mothers are concerned with hygiene
They generally eat tablets of testosterone
to ensure their menstruation is minimal
And did I mention what they keep their brains in?
They keep them in extra-skeletal cages
White anglo saxophone prisoners

WASP fathers are extremely forthright
They make their reality known to others
They make their reality the reality
To sisters, their wives, their mothers
White anglo saxon brother killers

STAIR SONG

Waking up in a bed of rust, so the feet don't match the body
Waking up and a bet is lost, so you have to wake up Daddy
Walking up the flight of stairs, overcome by the beauty of wings
Now you're on the highest floor, surrounded by adult themed things

Waking up on a city isle, so the dream stays unexpounded
Waking up and a bet is lost, so you have to use your legs now
Walking up to a blueprint stand, and ordering an architect's dozen
All the buildings spring to life, and nature becomes fuzzy

CANTALOUPE IS GREAT

Walking down the streets in my underground lair
Looking at the surface through my dirty blonde hair
Wondering about existential relations
Trying to figure out all these new sensations

'Cause cantaloupe is great, but murder is greater
You can always kill a girl, you do not have to hate her

Running through the streets of my police state mind
I'd tell you all about it if you ever had the time
Working through our problems like we really do care
To push and get through this like the better day's already there

'Cause cantaloupe is great, but problems are greater
You can always have a slice but you can't always get out of a fix

DAD'S SONG

Dad's song (his song)
Dad's song (his song)
Dad's song

THOMAS CURSE

Thomas Curse
Thomas Curse

He built a ship, a sinking ship
A ship to sink another ship
He built a ship, a shrinking ship
A ship to shrink another ship

BLUEPRINT
(music left on my computer written by Spencer Owen)

Before day breaks in half gotta get back to the factory
Gotta get back to the factory
Feed my kids to the factor

Before day breaks in half gotta get back to the factor
Gotta get back to the factory
Gotta get back to the factory

Every day, it gets better
It moves straighter
It gets ready
It moves faster
It gets smarter
It gets wiser
It's just a little blueprint but it's got potential
It's just a little idea but it's been marked essential
So why can't you crown me king yet, baby?

It's getting stronger
It's getting stronger

SOUND ISLAND

I barely escaped from sound island
Some sonic mistakes kept me captive there
My hearing is gone and I'm stranded on tears
Where I'm landing on Earth, that's my birthplace

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